


With This Ring

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels, Demons, Humor, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-14
Updated: 2003-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A phone call between unofficial colleagues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With This Ring

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 한국어 available: [With This Ring](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074926) by [allison3939](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allison3939/pseuds/allison3939)



*Ring, Ring* *Ring, Ring* *Ring, Ring*

*Crash*

"Blast. Infernal machine…..Hello?"

"Aziraphale?"

"Mmm?"

"If you had to put down a date of birth, what would you put down?"

"We don't have dates of birth. We weren't _born_ for one thing, and there weren't any days or months yet when we were created."

"Yes, but if you _had_ to. Like . . . like on those tax forms you insist on filling out."

"I leave it blank. No one's ever asked."

"Hmm. All right, height . . . six foot; weight . . ."

"None of your business."

"Heh. Let's see . . . what would you say was the colour of your hair and eyes?"

"They haven't changed in 6000 years, I'm rather astonished you have to ask."

"Keep your raiment of the justified on. Have you any medical problems?"

"Other than the tension headache that's beginning right now? No, of course not. What _are_ these questions in aid of, Crowley?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing."

"Don't try that innocent tone on me, I know perfectly well you're not innocent. What exactly are you filling out?"

"Ah. Well. A claim form for expenses."

"And you're filling in _my_ details? You're charging _your_ temptation expenses to _Heaven_? Crowley -."

"No, no. Although that's a good idea, thanks for suggesting it."

"Gah! You're impossible!"

"Yeah, I know. No, I'm not swindling your people, just mine as usual."

"Didn't you get into trouble for that before? I'm surprised you'd try again."

"Ah, but _this_ time I've been reading the fine print. Have you ever read the fine print on one of our forms, Aziraphale?"

"No, aren't they designed to be never ending?"

"True, but I ran it through a word processor, did a search for keywords – they never think of things like that, they're all stuck in the 14th century down there. Anyway, loophole city, Aziraphale. They're sloppier than people think."

"Loophole . . . city?"

*sigh*

"I found loopholes. Which I am currently exploiting. How much would you say your shop is worth, if you had to buy it today?"

"I'm not mortgaging my shop to Hell!"

"Nooo, of course not. But I could claim part of the cost back for you. If you like. If that wouldn't be an intolerable burden which might allow you to run out and buy more books to stuff onto your shelves. Aha! All that paper – a fire hazard. I'll claim for your insurance as well."

"Crowley! Stop! Just stop! Explain to me – as simply as you can – why you are sending details about me to Hell's bureaucracy?"

"I'm allowed dependants."

"You're allowed . . . dependants."

"Yes. As in, people whose expenses I can claim for."

"How am I a dependant of yours?"

"No need to take that tone. It's very simple. We're married."

*Thump*

"Aziraphale? Aziraphale? Are you still there?"

". . . Yes. I had to sit down. _What?_ "

"Relax. No one will ever check. Have you ever wanted to have children?"

"Stop laughing! It's not funny! Take my name off that form right now! We are _not_ married!"

"That's not what this copy of the registry says. It's OK, don't worry your little head about a thing. Sweetie."

"How dare you find this amusing! I've never heard anything so, so –."

"Adorable? Hey, hey, calm down or you'll have a heart attack. I'll come round later, after a hard day at the office. I'll expect my dinner on the table."

"Arrgh!"

"Bye. Darling."

*click*

"Arrrgh!"

  



End file.
